Voiceless (Tribute to Richard Hunt)
by Ozy the Talking Haystack
Summary: It is a cold, windy, January day when five Muppets suddenly find themselves without a voice.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Originally written on Muppet Central from Dec. 2011-June(ish) 2013. The story appears as it did originally, with some small edits for grammar and story flow.

Original Author's Notes: I'm...well, I'm not exactly sure what the rules are for this kind of fic. I've seen a lot of absolutely beautiful fanfics and fan art made in tribute to Jim Henson, and don't get me wrong, that's absolutely wonderful and Jim deserves all of that and more, but I noticed that there weren't very many tributes to Richard Hunt. I was going for a run today when this idea popped into my head, so I figured, "Why not?"

I'll mainly be concentrating on The Muppet Show for this, since I'm not all that familiar with Sesame Street and I've never watched Fraggle Rock.

Anyways, without further ado, I give you my dedication to Richard Hunt in fiction form. Enjoy.

Voiceless

By Ozymandias

Chapter 1

It happened on a cold, blustery January day. Things were beginning to pick up at the Muppet Theatre, as performances were to begin again within the next few weeks, as they had all opted to take three weeks of Christmas vacation instead of acting through the holidays, as it had been a rough year for everyone with the loss of their founding father. The Electric Mayhem were practicing their newest song, a cover of "The Look" by Roxette, on the main stage. Gonzo was sitting in one of the wings, a box filled with random junk in front of him, trying to find inspiration for his new acts, as he only had two planned out in his head and he would need twenty of them within two weeks. Fozzie was backstage, going over a new comedy routine with Kermit, with Scooter running to get them both a coffee. The Swedish chef was working away in the kitchen on a new recipe, Macaroni and Cheese with cayenne pepper, and Rowlf was ticking the keys off-stage, playing Beethoven's "Ode to Joy", much to the annoyance of the Electric Mayhem.

And in the basement, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and his assistant, Beaker, were working away at a new invention, the "Automatic Hypnotizer". However, things were not going well. The machine had blown up for the third time that day, and Bunsen's patience was wearing thing.

"Oh gosh darn it!" he cried, banging his fist on the diagram. "What are we doing wrong? We hooked up the generator to the right ports and made sure that the cooler was on, so what gives?" He rested his elbow against the table and placed his head on his hand, sighing in frustration.

"Mee mee mee mee mo mo." Beaker asked, scrubbing the soot off of his face with a rag.

"Yes, of course I plugged it in!"

"Mee mee meep."

"Hmm, I don't remember checking that, actually." Bunsen said, sitting up straight. "Wait a moment, Beaker." He stooped down to look near the bottom of the machine.

"Me meeeeeee me."

"Oh quit whining **!"** Bunsen snapped from his position on the floor. "Turning on the machine without coolant was your idea!"

"Mee mee!"

"Was too!"

"Mee mee!"

"Was too!"

"Mee m-"

"Oh for pete's sake Beaker, keep this up and I won't give you the honour of testing this out on the first performance!"

That would have been the perfect opportunity to speak, except that Beaker suddenly found out that he couldn't. He opened his mouth and shut it several times, trying to force tthe air through his windpipe and to get his voice to work, but no go _. What in the world_?

"There, that's a good Beak-oh for crying out loud, you installed a frayed wire?"

Beaker leaned on the table for support, trying again and again to speak. A twinge of panic wiggled in his stomach. _Everything was working just fine a second ago, what happened? The explosion obviously didn't damage my voice, so why-_

 _No, no it couldn't be that. You just have to try harder. Try harder, Beaker!_

Bunsen sat up, frayed wire in hand, only to bang his head against the bottom of the machine. He stood to his feet, rubbing his head with his other hand, then shot an annoyed glance at Beaker, holding out the frayed wire in triumph. His frustration melted away when he saw his assistant's mouth gaping open, then closing rapidly. No sounds appeared. Not even a squeak.

"Beaker?" He said, stepping forward, the hand with the incriminating wire dropped by his side. "Beaker, what's wrong _?" His larynx couldn't have acquired damage from the explosion, could it? I mean, he's taken worse without any vocal damage, and he was meeping away a moment ago._

The panic was rapidly growing as Beaker realized that no matter what he did, not a single sound came out of his mouth. He had been rendered completely mute.

 _Oh no. Oh no oh no ohnoohnoohnoohno._ Beaker stepped back away from Bunsen, no longer able to control his fear, the fear of the worst. _This happened to Kermit, he told us so about it when Steve finally stepped in and he was able to tell us about it. Why is it happening to me now, unless Richard's-_

 _Oh no._

Bunsen took a step towards his assistant. "Beaker?"

The bald scientist wasn't expecting for Beaker to bolt, running past him and slamming into his shoulder, sending Bunsen tumbling to the floor as Beaker rushed out the door. "Beaker!" Bunsen shouted, scrambling to his feet. "Beaker, I'm sorry! Was it something I said?" He gave chase after the running form ten feet ahead of him in the hallway. "Beaker!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Scooter was humming to himself in the kitchen, pouring a steaming cup of coffee into one of the old, chipped porcelain mugs Fozzie liked to use, ugly as they were. On the other side of the kitchen, the Swedish Chef was working away, and had begun arguing with a loaf of bread, which, being sentient, didn't like the idea of being turned into bread crumbs. Scooter dumped in two creamers, grabbed two packs of sugar and a stir stick, and headed out the door, still humming Beethoven's "Ode to Joy", the song that Rowlf had been playing away just minutes earlier as he had left to grab a coffee.

Something twitched in the back of Scooter's mind. He blinked and stopped, shaking his head. "Odd." He murmured. It was if as if a slightly off-key note had been played by one player in an orchestra. He smiled to himself, sure that he was just being silly, and started walking forward again, humming the next bar of the familiar orchestration. Again, the back of his mind twitched, and he rubbed his temple. "Must be the beginning of a headache." He said to himself, and then frowned as he noticed that the hand holding the coffee mug was shaking, threatening to flop the steaming liquid all over himself. _What the hooey?_ He forced himself to stop shaking, and then continued on, humming to himself until the humming unexpectedly cut off mid-bar. He couldn't make a sound.

He froze, his pupils constricting. He knew. There was no denial, or anger, or bargaining. Only shock, then numbness as the smile fell off his face at the same moment the coffee mug slipped from his limp fingers and clattered on the floor. It did not break, but spilled coffee all over the floorboards.

"Vhet zee hey?" Swedish Chef's voice rang out, having heard the noise. He popped his meaty head out of the door and looked out. "Hey, yuøøre-a muppeeng thet up, yuøø heer?"

Silence. Scooter's back was stiff.

"Scuuder? Yuøø ok?"

Not a sound. Scooter slowly turned his head, having turned pale. The Swedish Chef knew instantly too. He had gone through the same thing only a year earlier. He maneuvered himself out of the door, walked up to Scooter (not caring that his shoes were becoming soaked in coffee) and put his hand on the young lad's shoulder. "I'm surry. Go feend zee little-a gree frug."

Scooter nodded wordlessly, then started walking forward, running his left hand along the edge of the wall aimlessly, tracking coffee prints as he went. The Swedish Chef's hand fell limply at his side, and he took off his hat reverently. He stood there in the cooling puddle of coffee for a long time, before the smell of burning onions brought him back quickly to his kitchen.

Sweetums sat back in his bunk, his hands behind his head, unable to speak. Out of all the Muppets, had been the only one to have seen this coming. John Henson had stepped in to control his movements almost a decade ago, because Richard could no longer physically do it. At the very least, it had given him time to prepare himself for this moment.

He turned to his side and quietly curled up into himself, grieving quietly. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't. Richard had been a wonderful man, so talented and so outgoing, and, overall, so loving to everyone. Losing him like this…well, it was going to take everyone a long time to recover.

Everyone…Sweetums sat up and dried his eyes. Grieving could come later. Right now, the others (especially Scooter, poor fellow) would need him. He would be there for them, a strong giant who would hold them as they cried, and who would comfort them without a voice, and then he would grieve. Not yet though.

 _Godspeed_ , Sweetums thought, pushing himself off of the bunk and pulling on his tattered peasant shirt. It wasn't a long walk from his place to Muppet Studios, fortunately.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

" _She's got the look!_ " Dr. Teeth crooned into the microphone, banging on the keyboard like there was no tomorrow.

" _She's got the look!_ " Floyd and Janice echoed, their hands looking like blurs over the guitar and bass strings.

" _What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl so blue; when everything I'll ever do I'll do for you!_ " The entire band raised their voices, save for Zoot, who was busy grooving on the sax, and Animal, who was making those drumsticks fly.

" _And I go_ ," Dr. Teeth sang, and everyone joined in at the "la la la la la, she's got the look" part. Rowlf temporarily stopped playing to listen. He had to admit, the cover this time around wasn't half bad. Out of all of the acts performing within the next several weeks, The Electric Mayhem were the strongest, celebrating that their leader, Dr. Teeth, had gotten his voice back after going several months without one, meaning that Floyd and Janice no longer had to sing the lead all of the time anymore. All in all, things were looking up.

"Ooooooh, _fire in the ice, naked to the T-bone is a lover's disguise. Banging on the head drum, shaking like a mad bull, she's got the look._ " Dr. Teeth warbled, and Rowlf had to turn away just so that the band wouldn't see him laughing. The Muppet Show may not have strictly been a kids show, but something told him the lyrics would have to be rewritten somewhat.

" _Swaying to the band, moving like a hammer, she's a miracle man_ …" Dr. Teeth trailed off as he suddenly realized that he and Floyd were the only ones singing. He looked over at Janice, only to see that, though her lips were moving, he couldn't hear anything. _Her microphone can't be malfunctioning, can it?_ Over the noise of the instruments, he could see Janice's hands fly from the guitar strings to her throat, the guitar hanging loosely from the strap around her neck and shoulder.

"Stop the music!" Dr. Teeth roared, realizing that something was very wrong. Rowlf, having also seen the action, tilted his head to the side, and then leapt off of the piano bench, ready to run over if assistance was needed.

"Oh come on man, we'd just hit the groove!" Zoot complained loudly, having not noticed Janice's predicament.

"No stop! No stop!" Animal roared, hitting a cymbal several times for emphasis. Gonzo peered out of his spot in the left wing onto the stage, wondering what all the commotion was about.

"Janice?" Floyd said, alarmed. "Janice, what's wrong?" For the female lead of the band stood there, frozen, struggling desperately to sing, to let out a single note, even to speak a single word. Nothing.

Animal too, suddenly saw what was wrong as the last sour notes of interrupted musicians died. "Janice! Janice!" He yelled, jumping off of his drummer's stool. Rowlf started trotting towards them, looking worried.

Stopping just long enough to take off her guitar and shoving it at the surprised Floyd, who barely had time to make sure it didn't clatter to the ground, Janice ran towards the right curtained wing, fueled by the sudden panic that engulfed her. She ducked behind the curtain only to run straight into Beaker. The two of them collided in a tangle of limbs and arms, both wildly struggling to keep their balance. By some miracle they stayed upright, with Beaker's hands clutching Janice's elbow and shoulder and Janice's hands holding fistfuls of Beaker's lab coat. They both tried to speak rapidly to each other, but the silence confirmed both their fears.

 _Kermit,_ Janice thought, _we have to go get Kermit._ If there was anyone who would be able to confirm any news or tell them what to do in a situation like this, it would be him. As if reading her thoughts, Beaker let go of her and spun around on one heel, ripping the white material from her hands, then grabbed her wrist. The two of them fled in the direction of his office, nearly bowling over poor Bunsen. Dr. Teeth, Floyd and Animal rushed off the stage, with Rowlf, Zoot and Gonzo following closely behind them, and Bunsen fell in with them, wondering why half the theatre had suddenly turned into a madhouse.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Shout-out to my old English 201 class which gave me the idea for Segue the Topic Dog eons ago. Good times, good times...

Chapter 4

"So what do you think?" Fozzie said.

"Of the whole idea, or just you in general?" Kermit said, looking a bit disturbed.

"Erm, the whole idea." _I've already got a good idea of what he thinks of me…_

"Do you want the truth or a lie?"

Fozzie grinned. "I think I'll go with a lie."

"It's absolutely brilliant! Amazing! It'll bring the house down!"

Fozzie's grin melted off his face. "That bad, huh?"

"And expensive." Kermit rolled his eyes. "Fozzie, where on earth would we have gotten a paratroupe of monkeys and a year's supply of chocolate coins?"

"Good point. Ok, how about the Banana Sk—"

"Seriously, don't even go there."

"Oh c'mon Kermit! You aren't making this any easier! Umm…how about a transition skit with a character named Segue the Topic Dog?"

"Hmm… how exactly would that work?"

"Well, it'd go something like—" The door to Kermit's office creaked as it swung further open. Fozzie smiled.

"Oh good, Scooter's back with coffee!" He said, turning to face Scooter. He froze, as did Kermit upon seeing the boy.

One hand was gripping the door frame as Scooter stepped across the threshold, his head down, his shoulders slumped. It appeared that some sort of liquid had splashed across the legs of his pants, below the knees, and from the smell of it Fozzie was going to guess it was his coffee. He looked up, and two tears quietly carved a clear path down his face, his mouth tightening into a thin line, trying to keep some semblance of control. The idea that Scooter might've badly burned himself crossed Fozzie's mind for a second. "Scooter? Scooter, what's wrong?"

Kermit, on the other hand, guessed correctly, and a wave of empathy flowed over him. Just a short while ago, that had been him, lost, shocked, voiceless, and then the mourning. He was still recovering himself, in some ways. And now, here was Scooter, by all accounts going through the same thing. He was so young…Richard was so young, and oh my glory, Kermit knew that he had been in the hospital over the last few days and that there were complications, but he never imagined things would progress so quickly. Sure, it wasn't as quickly or unexpectedly as Jim, but the death of a loved one was still and would always be a hard thing to go through, especially the death of one's voice, the one who gave a Muppet their character and personality, one who breathed in new life each and every single act and single day…

"Scooter," Kermit said, stepping forward, beginning to lift his arms. "Scooter, I'm so sorry…"

The façade shattered. Scooter half ran, half fell forward towards them, his face crumpling, the tears now flowing freely. Kermit grabbed him and wrapped his arms around him as Scooter bent his neck and buried his face into Kermit's chest. Fozzie realized with a flash of horror and pity what must've happened, and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the both of them as best as he could. Together, the three of them slid to the floor, hitting their knees with a loud thump. Fozzie had the feeling that, had Scooter the ability to make a sound, his silent cry would have been a high, piercing wail. "It's ok," he murmured, trying to remember how Ma Bear had soothed him when he was a cub, "It's ok, you can cry, shhhh…"

Kermit nodded. He knew his friend's heart, and at the moment, it was the best they could do.

And so the three of them were when the door banged open and the entire world seemed to rush in all at once.


End file.
